Colours of the MSR
by Goldsaddletank
Summary: Falcon arrives on the Mid Sodor Railway in 1904, and he and Duke at first butt smoke boxes with each other. But just when Falcon starts to show appreciation and even affection for his unwanted mentor, a world war sweeps Sodor up into chaos and Stuart into their lives.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Soooo, just a little multi chapter project I'm working on. It's from Falcon's POV, so I hope I did okay with characterisation. I hope you enjoy this story!

;)

...

Hi- My name's Falcon. This is a story about one little railway on the Island of Sodor; the friendship, the triumph and the Great War it's witnessed- not romance (bleurgh!) But it's more than that- it's MY story, so you better listen.

And I guess Duke and Stuart's as well-except Stuart comes later- much, much later. But my story starts in 1904- the year of my 'birth' and also the year I arrived on Sodor, on the Mid Sodor Railway.

"Welcome to our railway, Falcon," A middle aged man- probably the manager, or whatever- greets me.

"Yeah, hi," I retort rudely, not in the mood to make friends or a good impression.

The manager clears his throat indignantly. "Well, I can see you might need a bit of work, Falcon. Perhaps some time with Duke will do you good. But you can't meet him yet- he's out pulling passengers. He'll be back later."

"Like I care," I hiss.

"But," he continues, ignoring my foul mood this time. "Before you start work, you must be examined by our workmen to see how you are."

"I'm perfect!" I snap, and I begin wheeshing steam at him furiously, and he scrambles back in alarm, much to my satisfaction.

"My word-this may very well be a repeat of Number 2! That will never do- God help Duke when he returns, you uncivilised engine! You shall start by pulling trucks once you're given the all clear!"

I balk at the insult, but before I can argue, I am led away by my crew and only four workmen, all insistent that I be 'checked over thoroughly' for any possible defects before I start work- not that I'm in any hurry to get to work, that is. Working with trucks sounds unappealing.

I chuckle darkly when he leaves; muttering insults under his breath- undoubtedly how foul I'm acting, but my new driver tuts at me.

"Honestly, Falcon- couldn't you behave? This is a nice place to work, once you get used to it."

"Yes- plus you wouldn't to get onto the wrong side of Duke," Adds a workman, shivering.

"Why, is he so terrifying that I should start calling him 'One Whose Name Shalt Not Be Uttered?'" I ask sarcastically, though deep down, I feel apprehension build up inside me. If a human, master of trains, is afraid of Duke, then what hope does a new-born engine like me have? Besides, the manager poke of him with such high regard I felt like letting out boiler sludge from my funnel- if I had had any at the time.

"He's not...terrifying, as such," The workman explains, nervously. "It's just that he's quite imposing and determined to set a high standard."

I gulp at this admission. This is very, very nerve wracking- damn workmen, scaring me on my first day on Sodor! But I don't want to admit I am even the slightest bit nervous, so I just laugh as rudely and loudly as I can.

"I'm not afraid of some silly old engine! Bring him on- I'll show him a thing or two if he dares to threaten me!"

"That would not be wise- if I were you, you'd be better off keeping any rude opinions to yourself." A different workman tells me.


	2. Chapter 2

A disgustingly polite cough suddenly entails my speech of bravery, and I see a brown tender engine nearby, wheeshing out excess steam.

"Pardon the interruption, gentlemen, but I burst a cylinder on my way here. Would you be so kind so as to repair it, please?"

"Of course- come on lads!" The workman talking to me exclaims to this newcomer suddenly, whilst begin laughing at this pitiful plight before me.

"Oh, this is rich! How often do you break down? You look too old to work here!" I chortle, sneering at this.

The engine gives me a stern look. "I see you've arrived." He informs me coldly- and unnecessarily.

"Of course, old timer- wouldn't it be odd if I wasn't here?" I retort.

Eyes suddenly narrowing dangerously, the engine gives me such a stare I suddenly wish I kept my mouth shut.

"Listen to me, youngster. This sort of behaviour would never have been tolerated by His Grace." The engine tells me calmly, sending cold fear in my smokebox- even more so when I notice his nameplate.

It read, simply 'Duke'.

Now I understand what these workmen meant about him, but I decide to stand up for myself. "Well, what are you gonna do about my attitude?" I ask, in an attempt to be brave. "The manager said that God will have mercy on you for"-

His bark of a laugh interrupts me. "I think my methods are sufficient enough without divine intervention." He tells me calmly, and I find myself at a loss of words. "Besides, you meant that God will be merciful and help me with you."

"What...what are you planning to do?" I ask trembling in my wheels in fright.

"Well, for starters, get this confounded valve mended!" He replies. "Then, after that, we can get started."

"Get...get started on what?" I stammer fearfully, eyes darting round the small shed for any witnesses who could help me against this mad engine should I need to be helped.

"Why, your education, of course." He answers good-naturedly.

"Pooh, I don't need to be educated!" I retort rudely, annoyed that he scared me so much just to teach me on how to be an engine!

"Hm, if you really think so highly of yourself, young 'un, you can get started on shunting in the yard. But mark my words- you will need help before the day is out, or I'm not his Grace's engine!"

Figuring that Duke is bluffing (and also delusional at being owned by a duke) I decide to take matters into my own buffers.

"Fine, we'll bet- if I win; you're not to annoy me ever again!" I tell him, satisfied. "But if I lose, I'll allow you to torture me to your heart's content."

"Education is not torture, youngster, but I'll accept your bet." Then, he remembers something. "I forgot to introduce myself- I'm Duke."

"Falcon," I relent begrudgingly. "And prepare to lose, old timer!"

Duke just chuckles darkly at my weak attempt at defiance. "I'd suggest you do the same, young Falcon."


	3. Chapter 3

I rattle out of the sheds as soon I am given the all clear- I don't want to be in the same shed as Duke any longer! He's insane! He tortures new, young engines for the fun of it- why does the manager keep him on? I wonder as I speed off towards the yard, where I am due to do some shunting work.

Why me?

...

I hiss steam furiously as I glare at the empty coal dust covered trucks in the yard, all laughing at me.

"Come on, old chap- negligence of your duties will likely get you to lose your bet." My driver reminds me, patting my side. "You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"No!" I huff. "It's just...nothing." I sigh. "So, what am I doing with those trucks, exactly?" I ask the foreman

"Well, you just shunt these over there," he replies, pointing vaguely to an empty siding with untrustworthy buffers. "They need to be shifted out of the way for later. Right now, this yard's a mess and needs to be tidied up a bit."

"More than a bit, I think!" I reply bitterly. "What's that Duke been up to?"

"Never mind about Duke- you should be more concerned about your future here." The foreman scolds, leaving me to my own devices.

"Right, come on Falcon- we better get started." My driver informs me, and I reluctantly set off, hissing steam and some choice words about Duke, the foreman, the trucks- this whole railway, in fact.

...

BUMP! CRASH!

"OUCH!"

"CUT THAT OUT, YOU LITTLE BLUE MANIAC!"

"STOP- WE REFUSE TO TAKE THIS ABUSE! THIS IS VIOLATION OF ACT 3456: GIVING TRUCKS THEIR RIGHTS!"

"Shut up!" I snarl furiously, ignoring their insults and instead bumping the trucks like the end of the world was coming- and I suppose it is for me, it is-if I lose this bet to a stupid, fuddy duddy psychopath I'm to work with.

I growl at a particularly nasty looking brake van ahead of me.

"Well, this one's vicious, ain't he?" He sniggers nastily to his comrades. "I never realised that falcons could growl- did you, Rags?" He asks a much worn truck next to him.

Rags burst out laughing "Good one, boss!" He tells me cheekily. "I also thought falcons were brown, not blue and red! He looks like he could turn purple any minute now- with rage!"

And they fall about laughing- at me. Feeling my rage spiral out of control, I simply yell "Oh yeah, you wise guys? If you want it, you'll have it!"

And I bump them – I bumped them so hard my buffers were ringing.

As for the trucks, they speed along the line, and I chortle nastily. "See you like that!" I shout carelessly.

"Falcon- you could cause an accident!" My driver scolds. "Quick- we need to get help, before"-

A loud, high pitched scream sounds from the bottom of the yard, followed by a loud 'CRASH!' of splintering wood shattering on impact.

...

I couldn't even explain my actions to the manager when he and Duke arrive to inspect the damage. I'm not one to regret being foul tempered, but the manager tells me that what I had done today had been very dangerous, and could have had fatal implications if things had happened differently.

"You're just lucky that the foreman and that workman were able to get out of the way of the trucks, Falcon!" He scolds, pointing an accusing finger at me as he continues to rant at my actions. "Not to mention the fact that you destroyed a wall and damaged several trucks!"

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir."

"SORRY doesn't even begin to cover it, Falcon! I'm already considering sending you back to Loughborough! I was willing to overlook your rudeness initially upon arrival and hope things would improve once you settled in, but this is a whole new level of disruption you've caused!"

I glance down at my buffers, cowering a little. I know I'm hot headed, but I didn't mean to nearly kill two people! I could give stuff about the damage, though.

"Now, what to do with you..." He ponders, glaring at me. "You're a danger to the yard already...this wouldn't do...what will people think?"

Just as I feel things were looking grim, I hear a voice- a gruff one, clear his throat. (Well, engines don't have throats, but you know what I mean. Or at least you SHOULD know, cos you're people, and it'd be kinda dumb if you don't know what I'm going on about.)

"Sir, I feel that I have some responsibility for this incident- I neglected to guide him in matters of the yard. Give Falcon a week in the shed and then entrust him to me, sir. It's his temper that's the real danger here, and when he gets time to cool down, I can mentor him."

The manager stares at Duke as though he's crazy, and so do I. "You...you must be kidding, Duke. This engine's wily, irresponsible, dangerous"-

"That may be, sir, but he's young. He needs discipline, and I can give him that. But that week in the sheds will help him show first of all that hot-headedness and railways don't mix."

The manager pauses to consider it, and then he looks at me, but I don't pay attention to what he might be thinking- I am too much in awe of what Duke just said.

Is this the same engine whom I insulted for seeming so weak when we first met? It is- I know it is, I'm not that irrational- but I can't believe that this old timer just stuck up for me.

It acknowledges I lost the bet, which I resent- but he actually seems willing to take me on which is surprising. His expression is cast with determination to do just that.

' _How's he gonna do that? He would have been built last century!'_ A voice within my funnel asks. _'He's got to be some tough engine to deal with me!'_

"Well, alright Duke. I'll trust your word on this, and I hope you're right!"

"Thank you sir," Duke replies smoothly. "I wouldn't let you down."

I wait until the manager nods, and then walk over to check on his two employees, before I glance at my new 'to-be' mentor.

"Duke, thanks for sticking up for me." I say. "I never thought that you"-

However, he sends me an icy glare in response, silencing me from any gratitude I was about to display. "That was not me sticking up for you, Falcon. I am merely honouring our agreement."

"Oh..." I breathe.

' _Oh why am I disappointed? I complained about Duke torturing engines for fun- why should I expect something more?'_


	4. Chapter 4

The manager did not hesitate to follow Duke's word. I was indignant that an engine knew how to punish another engine, and following the rebuff at gratitude, I end up treating Duke as coldly as before, if not more so, when I see him I the morning and last thing at night before we head to sleep.

He never cared.

"It's not fair!" I complain. "How come Duke gets to decide how I get punished? The manager agreed to it with no arguments! I wonder where the trucks got their political ideas from- wherever it came from sounds like an ideal place to end up compared to this dump!"

"Be quiet!" My crew snap in sync- I'm not allowed out of the shed, but they still come in to check me over and things like that, so that I can get back to work as soon as possible, to save your confusion.

"You're lucky you weren't sent back to England!" My fireman tells me furiously. "Greig and I nearly lost our jobs due to your selfish, reckless behaviour! Besides, Duke's punishment was benign compared to what some engines get- regardless of his motives for doling it!"

"Besides, that shows that Duke has the manager's trust in deciding how to deal with unruly engines." My driver adds.

"Bah!" I snort.

...

A week drags itself into the dirt before I am finally allowed out- which is a relief, as staring out of the shed window for a whole week is now at the bottom of my recreation list.

"Woo!" I cheer delightedly, as I am finally steaming up.

"Well Falcon, will you behave today?" My driver asks me cheerily, oiling my wheels carefully.

"Oh yes sir! I'll try to sir!" I steam happily, sizzling like a...a sausage?

"Good- you'll be working with Duke today in the yard, so you should be on your best behaviour." My fireman tells me, going over to chat to the firelighter, while I splutter in disgust.

That puts a dampener on my mood. "Why?" I whine to my driver, who just glares.

"Regardless of how you see it, Falcon- Duke helped you last week, and he has high hopes for you."

"Why?" I grunt wheeshing furiously at my treacherous crew.

"That's quite enough, young engine!"

I gulp as I see Duke's shadow loom across the shed door. "I know what you're taking me for, and I'm not having anything that will not suit his Grace! Is that clear?" He asks, in a voice that is – I kid you not- a scary sounding cross between grumpy and icy.

"Yes, Duke." I answer meekly, though I am outraged at him for punishing me, and ordering me about!

I leave the yard fuming about that 'fuddy duddy'.

...

"No, no and no! That wouldn't do!"

"What? I didn't bump them off the line!" I protest, glaring at the trucks in front of me.

"You still biffed 'em too hard, young engine. Look, here's how it's done." He rolls up smoothly to some trucks of his own, and biffs them carefully- just hard enough to shunt them, but not so hard that they went too fast. "Try again."

All day, he nags, complains and fusses at my work, whilst doing his own. It was exhausting trying to beat a more experienced engine at his own game, and I gave up trying to outdo him when he always found something new to nit-pick at.

"Trust me, it's for your own good," He tells me sternly, after I complain for the millionth time about the soreness of my buffers and the dull ache in my wheels later that evening, as we finish.

"What good will that be, exactly, huh, Duke?" I huff irritatingly. "To torture me in your own disturbing way? To drive me up the buffers? To- Why would you care so much about how I act, anyway?"

Duke glances at me, face pink and orange from the sunset, and for the shortest time, I see his expression soften- but it disappears before I can ponder on this strange development.

"I am helping you..." he begins, tone more reserved than anything I have ever heard from him before. "...so you don't end up like _him_."

He's out of the yard before I can ask who 'he' is.


	5. Chapter 5

"It's not fair!" I fume, biffing the trucks as hard as I could. They grumble and grouse at me, but I ignore them.

I've got bigger coals to burn- such as how unfair my punishment is. Especially since Duke dealt it to me!

"What a fuddy duddy!" I complain loudly to my driver in annoyance.

"Look, Falcon, I know you hate it- but there's nothing you can do," My driver tells me. "Need I remind you that you caused severe damage, nearly cost us our jobs and could have hurt innocent people?"

I scowl- I've been told this repeatedly by my crew whenever I complain about the punishment Duke gave me, and to be grateful that it was milder than the alternative.

To be honest, I'd have preferred to have been sent back home to England. I doubt anyone would actually want me back...but at least I wouldn't have to deal with that horrid old fusspot!

I suddenly hear a loud wheesh from nearby- a loud, annoyed and therefore annoying one.

"Falcon - look at the mess you've made!" He scolds me, and I look down the line.

"So what, fusspot?" I ask rudely, not caring about what would happen should I insult him- or about the mess I made, either. If this railway expects me to work my _hardest_ \- let alone work-, then they are making a huge mistake!

I continue to remain vociferous on my protestations of shunting in the yard whenever Duke tries to tell me that this sort of behaviour would _'never suit his Grace'._

"I'd prefer to pull coaches!" I tell him, smugly. "I hate working with the trucks!"

"Well, like it or not, youngster, you are shunting trucks in the yard, and that's that," Duke tells me. "Besides, I doubt the manager would trust you with a passenger train! This is not a large railway, and it doesn't need your rambunctious behaviour to destroy our surroundings or bumping passenger coaches to add to our expenses!" He hisses.

I say nothing- I just blow steam, smoke and cinders at him. He angrily calls me 'an impertinent scallywag' and then trundles away to shunt his own trucks, leaving me to seethe.

"Falcon!" My fireman gasps in horror. "That was a horrible way to behave!"

"Well, Duke wasn't being any better!" I protest, but he shakes his head at me.

"You're terribly rude, you have a sloppy work ethic, and your ego's bigger than your common sense." He tells me sternly. "I know you don't like Duke or his ways, but he is your only hope out of this mess- and you're not being wise about your actions so far."

I just scoff at him- I'm not a wise engine, am I? Besides, who does _he_ think he's talking to?

"I don't give half a cylinder!" I snap. "That old timer can't tell me what to do- I'm my own engine!" I boast proudly.

"Very well- suit yourself, Falcon," Says my fireman, shrugging nonchalantly. "But when you get in trouble with Duke or the manager again, don't come complaining to us!"

"Well, fine then- I wouldn't!" I retort- though I know I will. I mean, complaining about work is what I do best!

...

For the rest of the day, Duke just hovers around the yard, keeping an eye on me when he's not working.

Somehow, he just manages to get all his work done- and disapprove of mine!

"No, no, no, Falcon! That will never suit His Grace!" He tells me, every time I make a mistake. "You're as stubborn as a mule, and make no mistake- but I've dealt with worse." He says, darkly.

"Oh really- who might that be?" I challenge.

But before he can answer, the manager (whose name is Gilbert French, for those bothered to know) comes running in. "Duke, I require you to take some schoolchildren on a trip up to the battlefields near King Orry's Bridge." He says.

"I can't, sir," Duke answers, with a curt politeness that makes me gag. "I have to pull the Picnic train soon."

"Oh, of course- dash it all! The only engine that's available is"- then, he sighs. "Oh, drat! It's you," He tells me, grumpily. "I'm still not happy with you after the last incident."

"Sir, please!" I beg. I can't stand the idea of working with trucks any longer!

"But, sir- these are schoolchildren! Falcon shows no respect for anyone but himself- they could get hurt!" Duke protests in horror, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence!" I retort sarcastically, earning a glare from both Mr. French and Duke.

"Well, I know, Duke- I'm reluctant, too- but you can't take both trains, and I don't have enough help!" Mr. French huffs in annoyance. "I'll need another engine- but we can't afford one currently. There's only one option- Falcon, you'll have to take the schoolchildren." He says, with great resign.

"Really- oh thank you sir!" I beam happily. Finally- the chance to get away from those annoying, mischievous, pesky trucks!

"But," Mr. French continues, "If you cause one accident, Falcon, I'm restricting you to the yard. Is that clear?"

"Oh yes sir!" I say enthusiastically, eager to finally pull coaches!

 _I'll ensure I wouldn't go back to the trucks again!_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: A very short update, but I'm working on more stories now that my course is finished for the year! So expect an update burst! :) Than you so much for your support, you lovely people, and I apologise for my belated updates! Enjoy!

...

A few days pass (during which I am given a new coat of paint to make me feel 'welcome' according to Mr. French, and, although the paintwork makes me feel fabulous; I am still bearing a grudge for Duke; after all, he still gave me a harsh punishment; and then he tells me he doesn't want to end up like some fictional antagonist he created to scare me into submission.

Still, I find my curiosity piqued by what Duke had said, much to my annoyance. But I don't want to ask Duke about 'him', as he's probably not going to tell me. So, I decide to be subtler…

"Who's the 'him' that Duke was talking about?" I ask my driver, whilst he fills up my water tank. He pauses in thought.

"I don't rightly know, old boy. When did he mention 'him' exactly?"

I recount the exchange between Duke and myself shortly after my release from the sheds following my accident with the trucks.

"Hm, seems strange," Muses my driver. "If he tells you, then that's fair. But if he doesn't, you should drop the matter. You are still in his bad books, and we can't have that."

"I suppose not," I concede to his words with a growl of frustration.

"Besides," my driver adds, to try and make me feel better, "I have good news! We've been assigned to take a passenger train today!"

I cheer up at this. Finally! A chance to escape the trucks' merciless bullying!

"That's great!" I reply enthusiastically. "When do we pull the train?"

"This afternoon," he tells me, with a twinkle in his eye. "And if you behave and get your work done in good time, Falcon, we'll give you a good polish for your run."

I sizzle happily at this extra good news. Not only do I get to pull a passenger train; but I'll look extra smart doing it!

…..

However, my mood falls flat when I overhear a conversation between my driver and Mr. French an hour before I am due to take the train.

"I do appreciate Falcon's enthusiasm to take this train, Mr. Cooper, but he's simply too inexperienced to do this on his own right now." The manager says.

"Why? Falcon is determined- sometimes too much for his own good- but he has been eager to redeem himself, sir."

"I know. But the line Falcon is to take is very difficult and very dangerous- the track runs along the cliffs, and one minor mistake could result in many fatalities."

Before my driver can argue further, Mr. French holds up his hand. "Now, I know Falcon must learn the line eventually, and he will do this afternoon. But, he will double head the train with Duke to learn the ropes- or rather, the rails."

"Fiddlesticks!" I yell, inadvertently alerting them both to my presence. "I won't, sir!" I add with an angry wheesh, not caring how much of a scene I create.

"You won't what, Falcon?"

"I wont double head my train with that fuddy-duddy!" I retort, and Mr. French frowns at me.

"Now, Falcon, I know you and Duke don't get along; but he is very knowledgeable of the line, and he is excellent on that route. He will assist you until you know the line well enough to take trains on your own. However, I will not allow you out with the train at all if you refuse to comply with my orders."

A low blow, my friends; a low blow. Realising that I will lose either way, I decide to surrender to Mr. French's humiliating orders.

I'd rather pull the train myself, but if Mr. French remains adamant that Duke and I double head my train, I may as well get this run over and done with, and hopefully it'd be the last time I'd have to work with Duke on something like this.


	7. Chapter 7

I steam into the station, looking like a 'sour faced lobster who accidentally inhaled a lemon at 60 mph (my fireman's words, not mine) where Duke is sizzling away on the track next to my already-shunted train. "Couple up, youngster!" Duke tells me, grandly. "I'll lead,"

Not wanting him to have the run _his_ way, I snipe back, "No, I'll lead. How can I learn the line when you're right in front of me, blocking the view?" I allow myself the satisfaction of selfish pleasure as Duke lets out an angry whoosh of steam at my defiance. Refusing to be cowed into submission, I merely glare at him. He glares back at me. We remain this way until the guard yells at us that if we remain like this for much longer, we'd make everyone late for the train.

Not wanting to disappoint the passengers, Duke eventually gives in. "As much as this is unsuited to His Grace, I'll let you lead this train," he concedes with a low growl, and I smirk in quiet triumph. "But don't get cocky, young 'un- that route has dangerously sharp bends, so you must watch the track at all times." He adds, warningly.

"Yeah, I hear ya," I retort, but inside, I feel so euphoric that I can lead the train! I feel so happy at this unexpected development that I decide to ignore Duke's warning about the dangers of the line.

Besides, he's probably exaggerating about the danger of the line. He's already tried to scare me with some fictional villain of the railway he won't tell me about; and now he thinks I can't handle some measly, tiny bends!

I'll show him…

…..

Twenty minutes after we had departed the station, the two of us are making good progress along the line. Behind me, Duke pants to keep an eye on the track ahead, but I ignore him again."Silly old fusspot!" I mutter crossly. "Fuddy-duddy, fuddy-duddy!"

Still, the line is nice to look at; lush green valleys sweep the Sudrian landscape; rapeseed glows in the sunshine; sheep graze contently in little white specks on the hills; the smell of fresh grass wafts through my nose; the sky shows a gorgeous aquamarine blue with few clouds to be seen. In short, it's perfect.

Well, maybe not the gradient of the line. I should have a word with whoever thought it'd be funny to torture engines with such a steep line.

"Falcon; keep your eyes on the track!" Duke tells me again, interrupting my thoughts with an impatient growl. "There's a tunnel ahead."

"Pooh!" I retort, but Duke's right- a black, gaping hole stands in front of me, looking menacing- and to make it worse, I can't see any light coming from the other side. With a sigh, I clatter my way into the tunnel, with Duke and the coaches trailing behind me.

…..

Turns out the tunnel's curved- that's why I couldn't see any light straight through. I slow down, not wanting to derail in the dark. Behind me, I hear Duke click-clack- click clack along the line, like those strange letter-writing things the humans call a 'typewriter,' which I think is silly because you can't write types.

The coaches roll along smoothly behind us, with no problems whatsoever. Despite the darkness of the tunnel, I feel no apprehension or fear; just eagerness to escape the tunnel and continue on our journey without further intervals in the dark.

…..

I have no understanding of how eyes function, other than they close when we sleep (or die, in more extreme cases) and can be dazzled by light too easily after exposure to the dark. Unfortunately, this happened to me after we leave the tunnel. My eyes squint as I burst out into the sunshine and I wince, speeding up a little to try and run away from the sun's rays.

The next thing I know, my driving wheels are no longer off the rails, and I come face to face with the valley below us- which is scarily high for my liking.

"Young idiot!" Duke hisses at me. All I can do is gulp in fright- what have I done to deserve this sense of doom? Oh, wait. Maybe that shouldn't be answered. I certainly shan't ask Duke- if he was able to use one of those typewriters and had a decent grip of the English language, he'd probably be able to answer that question in an essay.

I try to ask Duke to help me back onto the line; but my voice has deserted me, and I struggle to say a word. Fortunately, I hear him straining behind me, grunting and panting. All the while, I notice my driving wheels are slowly moving back towards the track.

"Stop shaking!" Duke orders. "I can't hold you if you shake!" I want to argue that I'm about to fall to my death here, am I not allowed to show my fear? But my driver does gently pat my cab as he and my fireman scramble out and shakily leg it for safety. Well, maybe I will be alright after all. I might come back home alive and in one piece. I take deep breaths to try and control my quaking, reminding myself that I am still coupled to Duke, and that he is doing his utmost to rescue me from my impeding doom.

Maybe-

"Duke's running out of water!" Yells his fireman, and my heart sinks at this proclamation from Fortuna herself. Lord, if I ever get out of this situation alive, I'll be nicer to Duke. Or, try to, anyway. I mean, I will put in more effort into being polite and respectful, even when it's hard...


	8. Chapter 8

I know that most of you, if not all, will be aware of the Reverend W. Awdry's account of my rescue from the cliff. So, I see no need to recount everything that happened in those dreadful moments I was facing impending doom. But, I will say that I have never been more grateful for his presence. If I hadn't had him double heading my train, I would have been killed; as would have my crew, the passengers and the coaches.

Once we return to the station, the passengers pour out of the coaches, telling Mr. French about the drama in the hills, gushing over his bravery, and recounting the thrilling adventure they had. "We never saw it coming!" they chittered.

Well, I never saw my gratitude towards him coming, either. "Hey, Duke- thanks for saving me." I say, sheepishly. "But why did you? I was horrible to you."

"Well, it would have been a shame if you'd spoiled your new coat of paint rolling down that valley." Duke answers wryly. I chuckle at that.

"Well, you're not wrong. Still, I do owe you for saving my life back there."

"Perhaps an ear would be nice," he grunts in response, and I blush in embarrassment, realizing there is something else I should apologize for. After all, he did stop me falling bunker over funnel into the valley.

"Also, I'm sorry for not listening to you, Duke. You tried to warn me about the line- both you and Mr. French, and I ignored your warnings, cos I thought I knew better. I thought you were just trying to scare me. Now I realise that that may have been a cause for concern."

Duke gives me a meaningful look. "Well, hopefully this scare will serve as a lesson to you, young Falcon." He warns. "I cannot double head every train you pull up on that line. If you fall again, it'll be to your death. Understand?"

I suddenly shudder; it dawned on me that I am only mortal, and if I get cocky again, I'll fulfill Duke's word. "Yes, Duke." Is all I can reply meekly, not wanting to think of accidentally killing myself.

"Good," the old engine tells me sternly, his gaze boring into my eyes. "Now, Falcon, if I tell you something in the future, will it be heeded?" He asks, slowly and quietly.

"Yes." I mumble. If I could nod, I would have.

…..

The journey back to the sheds was silent. My wheels quiver beneath me for I have no idea what Mr. French will say about the cause of the accident in the first place. I let him down, badly, and I'm afraid I may not get another chance to redeem myself; worse, I might get sent away in disgrace and be replaced by another engine.

"Look, I won't worry about the manager will say," Duke tells me.

"Gah! Get out of my funnel!" On seeing him give me another of his funny looks, I wince and apologize. "It seemed like you were reading my mind." I explain, sheepishly.

"Well, stop it," Sighs Duke. "I know you're not looking forward to explaining this, and believe me, I'm not, either. But trust me- I know that you want to make things right and stop endangering others needlessly. Well, I can help you, Falcon; but only if you are willing to listen to me and work with me."

"I promise," I reply solemnly, before a cheeky smirk crosses my face. "Granpuff."


	9. Chapter 9

I needn't tell you that Duke wasn't pleased about his new nickname in the slightest. However, I kept it up for as long as I could. After weeks of me calling him 'Granpuff', the name stuck; it remained my gentle jab at his old age and endless wisdom; and it became an 'inside joke' for the pair of us, as I was the only one allowed to call Duke Granpuff (after much wearing down.)

But, as much as I tease him following my accident on the mountain, I'll confess that his wisdom served me well over the coming months of 1906. I even began to feel more at home than I had ever been since my arrival.

Several years passed; almost a decade, even, and I became more acquainted with how the Mid Sodor Railway did things. Sure, I never really liked trucks or pulling non-bogie wheeled coaches, but Duke didn't dare let me slack off if things didn't go my way.

So, life wasn't perfect, but I could live with what I got.

And then, in 1914, a strange heat gripped Great Britain. Duke and I sensed it, but neither of us could explain it. I had never felt something like this before. I looked to Duke for guidance; but neither had he.

28 July 1914 was the day we found out that Great Britain was at war.

The Prime Minister, Herbert Asquith, gave Germany an ultimatum to get out of Belgium by midnight of August 3rd, or else, the Germans would get a taste of our armies.

Duke explains to me, rather gravely, what that meant.

"You see, young Falcon," he said, "The British are under a treaty known as Treaty of London of 1839. It agrees that Belgium is an independent country, and anyone that invades, for whatever reason, Belgium will be defended by allies. That includes us."

"But why are the British defending Belgium?"

"Well, it's a country recognized in its own right."

"I know that, Granpuff! But what I want to know is why the British are coming to help Belgium now? What's happening?"

"What's happening, Falcon, is that Germany's invaded Belgium, because they're fighting France, and they wanted to find a quick way to get to France to fight." Duke's driver chipped in.

"And why is Germany fighting France?"

"That's because the Germans threatened Russia, and Russia is an ally of Great Britain and France. So, France is fighting the Germans, and Russia is fighting the Germans, and now, we're fighting the Germans."

"Is there anyone fighting us?" I asked. "Besides the Germans, obviously."

Duke looked a bit fed up at this point, but his driver continues. "Austria-Hungary. If Italy renounces its neutrality, then that'll be them fighting us, too. But we're in luck now."

"No, we're not, we're buggered!" I pointed out.

"Be quiet!" Snaps Duke. "It'll be a long war, young 'un, but we'll get through it, yet!"

"Well, everyone's saying that we could actually beat them by Christmas." Duke's fireman adds.

"Hmph!" Says Duke. "I'll believe it when I see it, gentlemen, and not a moment sooner."

"Are you implying something, Granpuff?" I ask.

Duke just tells me that the quality of our army is a source of patriotism; and a strong certainty to win the war; but certainly not a guarantee.

It was a golden summer that year on Sodor- but despite that, the chills of war ran through the land, from the coast to the mountains, from North to South and East to West, went up cries of war.

It was thus the beginning of a hard time for Sodor- and for us, too!


	10. Chapter 10

One major change I noticed on the Mid Sodor Railway in the days following the declaration of war was that the balance of goods/passengers' trains ratio was instantly upset.

Unfortunately, it was not in the way I would have preferred. Passengers, due to fear and uncertainty about the impact war would cause on Sodor, opted to travel less in favour of staying at home; whereas goods trains were increased, due to the higher demands for coal, wood, oil, food and other goods for people to prepare for war.

Needless to say, I am very cheesed off.

One upside of this whole sorry state of affairs Britannia's stuck in now is that we are being assigned to take ammunition trains. This was something new, even for old Duke; but even then, he usually took them, if he could help it. I felt a bit miffed, especially seeing as he wasn't so upfront about answers to my questions as to why I couldn't take some trains.

This enraged me all the more, and I resolved to speak with 'Granpuff' about the matter.

…

"Granpuff, I wish you would stop taking them all the time!" I complain, a few days after the above epiphany.

Duke raises an eyebrow at me, clearly not pleased about my lack of greeting; particularly since we hadn't seen each other for nearly six days, due to our packed schedules. "And may I ask what you mean by them, Falcon?" he asks me coolly.

"The ammunition trains!" I protest. "It's not fair, Granpuff, you always take them!"

"Need I remind you that you nearly went rolling down the mountain, only just recently, Falcon?" asks Duke, sternly. I wince, and glare back at him, feeling the injustice of the reminder sting my smokebox like a wasp.

"Come on, I said I was sorry." I say, trying to remain calm so as to ensure Duke's full attention "Besides, I'll be extra careful- I know I'm reckless on occasion"-

An eyebrow raises itself at that, prompting me to make a slight rephrasing of the rest of my passionate speech.

"-okay, more than on occasion; but not even I am selfish enough as to put my crew in danger for a moment's speeding."

"There's more to pulling ammunitions trains than going slowly, young 'un," Duke reminds me; but his expression does soften a little. "Well, you have done a lot better since the mountain incident, I must admit. I'll be willing to trust you, young Falcon, if you think you're ready."

Boy, was I thrilled!

"Oh, gee, thanks Granpuff!" I whistle happily.

"Alright, settle down, youngster!" Duke says sternly, but I see something in his eyes… like a smile, if you get what I mean. A… twinkle, in his eye, maybe? "I'll let you take it yourself, even. But you better get going."

"Wait, surely there's not one now, Granpuff!" I protest, in shock.

"No, no, Falcon!" Duke answers, a tad impatiently. "I mean, your train's ready to go now. You better get the coal in on time."

"I know, I know," I sigh, good naturedly. "I'll see ya, Granpuff,"

"Be careful," he warns me. "I heard Mr. French saying that the line's starting to get rickety, and he can't afford to get them repaired. So, mind the track this time!" He barks.

"I will, I will," I answer. But, not wanting to jinx my luck again, and also to keep the promise I made the day I hung on the mountain line, fearing for my life; I just about manage to refrain from calling him names, like 'fusspot' or 'fuddy-duddy'.

….

Sure enough, the line is getting rather bumpy and uncomfortable to travel on. I grimace, but I carry on, too excited about the prospect to finally pull an ammunitions train for the first time in my life!

I must admit though… it was a lonely achievement to celebrate.

Yeah, I guess I've grown to like the old timer back in the yard, but he and I are from different centuries! And I know few engines here on this island as it is; but I don't know any engines my own age.

It's a bit tragic, really, realizing that you have no companions your own age. I'm sure you people can empathize with that; especially when you're young, like me.

I mean, come on- I'm ten years old, going on eleven pretty soon! Why aren't there any other young engines to talk to? I mean, Duke goes on constantly about 'his Grace' and has particularly started talking about patriotism in an attempt to try and get me to show some motivation for my work.

It works- only not exactly how Duke wants it. I'm trying desperately not to hear the same old lectures over and over again; I don't want to hear about the Duke of Sodor for the umpteenth time, Duke!

….

'CRACK!'

I yelp as I unexpectedly jump off the rail and get stuck on the bank on the line. Fortunately, my back wheels and the trucks remain on the line. Nonetheless, I'm even more peeved off about Fortuna picking on me again.

But at least it isn't a life or death situation this time, I guess.

…

"Well, that's that, old boy." Driver tells me, a hint of disappointment in his tone. "You'll need to get checked over before we get you to the Workshops."

I bite my lip fearfully, remembering Duke's warning. Was I in trouble again?


	11. Chapter 11

Driver and Fireman lever me back to the rails using an iron bar, and their sheer strength.

"Hey, it's okay, Falcon," My driver says, in a flimsy but heartfelt attempt to be reassuring. "It could have happened to any engine; even Duke."

I appreciate him trying to be kind to me, I really do; but I just really want to be left alone to my own thoughts; especially since I was already feeling awful about the accident.

It was minor, and no one got hurt; but I regardless find myself in the mortifying position of fighting back tears of shame and humiliation.

I'd messed up, again! Just when I thought I was going so well, too! Why does Fate always pick on me?

….

I wasn't too badly damaged, from what my crew could see; but they suggested a check-up, just to make absolute certain that I hadn't damaged anything.

And so, I say nothing to my crew on my way into the workshops; which is very small, but very cosy, and I instantly feel a little better. The workmen here are very nice and are fond of us little engines, and do very well to look after us, regardless of the situation.

Considering the recently discovered state of the tracks, I can safely say I appreciate these men a lot more than I did before.

"Hello, Falcon!" The Chief calls out, interrupting me from my thoughts. "How can I help?"

"Well, I… um…" I fluster, for once words failing me. I like to think that I'm normally very gifted with words, but for once, my gifts failed, and I was left standing there like a gaping, metal blue whale.

(That might have been funny if I wasn't describing myself)

Fortunately, my driver explains my situation to the Chief, who only emits a belly laugh.

"Oh, well, why didn't you say so?" HE exclaims delightedly. "It is my pleasure to serve! Just park him there, my good man, and the lads and I will look him over, from funnel to fender!"

"Please, that won't be"-

But the Chief doesn't hear me. Sighing, I allow my driver to reverse me into the spot where he wanted me to sit.

"How long is this going to take?" I hiss to my driver, as he and my fireman exit my cab. He merely shrugs in reply.

I sigh.

"Well, hello there, comrade!"

"GAH!" I yelp, glancing to my right. There stood a grey tank engine, whom I did not know, nor recognize. I was so startled that I temporarily forgot about Granpuff and Mr. French.

"For God's sake, don't say that!" I hiss, "you sound like one of those wannabe Communists!"

"I apologize, old chap," the engine replies cheerfully. "I didn't mean to offend you- I'm as British as you are. Freddie's the name, by the way; but some of the chaps here call me 'Fearless Freddie.'"

"Well, pleased to meet you, Freddie," I answer warily, looking at this engine. He happens to look very young;

'perhaps even around my age!' I think giddily.

"I'm Falcon," I answer, managing a small smile at Freddie.

"Please to meet you, Falcon." He says, a boyish gleam in his eyes. "Say, haven't seen you here before."

"I work for the MSR- but I don't remember seeing you." I reply. "Do you know Duke?"

Freddie looks blank. "I'm afraid I don't recall anyone called Duke." He replies. "As for me, I usually work on the Skarloey Railway."

'Wait, what?! There's another narrow- gauge railway here?!' I wonder in bafflement. My expression must have mirrored my thoughts, for Freddie started laughing at me.

"Oh, yes! I mostly run there at night, taking ammunition and weapons delivered from the Wharf." He tells me, his eyes wide with excitement. "There isn't a

Entranced, I allow myself to settle in and listen to Freddie narrate tales of derring-do and starlit journeys across the little- known lines of the Skarloey Railway.

"Driver says that I might know the line even better than the engines that work there!" Freddie says proudly.

"Wow," I remark, without a hint of sarcasm. "That's pretty neat, Freddie; must be handy, huh?"

"Oh yes!" my new friend beams at me. "It is! I needn't ever worry about getting lost, except when it's daylight!"

I laugh. I like Freddie. I wish he was helping me and Duke on our line; something tells me he'd be a useful addition. And, I kid you not, I could have sat there for hours listening to Freddie's tales of sterling bravery and daring stints in the dark!

…

By the time Chief informed me I could leave, about an hour and a half later, I was most disgruntled to leave my new friend; as well as afraid as to what Duke might say if he found out about my accident.

"You're free to leave, Falcon; just come back if there is any problems, okay?" He asks me, tipping his hat with his thumb.

"Uh, yeah, will do, thanks, sir," I mumble weakly. He just smiles at me, and gently waves me out of the workshop, leaving me to set off for home.

Alone.

…..

When I finally reach the Yard, I'm most surprised to see Duke arguing with Mr. French.

"Sir, I don't understand why Falcon was late with his train, but"-

"Duke, I get you're upset, but we'll do what we can. I'll see if the- Falcon!" He exclaims in shock, seeing me enter the yard. "There you are? What the devil happened on your run?"

"Hello, Sir. Hello Duke," I answer. "Looks like inconspicuous entries are a huge weakness I need to improve on, am I right?"

To my surprise, Duke relaxes. "Thank Proteus you're safe, young Falcon." he says sincerely. "I was worried when we didn't hear any word of you arriving at your destination. I feared the worst had happened to you and your crew."

"No, I just… I just derailed on some broken line…" I answer sheepishly, trying hard not to show how upset and scared I was. I didn't want to be sent away! "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be, Falcon." Duke says gently. "It was just an accident. And a minor one at that, I'm relieved to know," he adds, smiling at me. "I'm just glad you're back in one piece."

"So, what happened?" Mr. French asks.

I recount my adventure of derailing, my crew helping me, and then ending up in the workshop.

"Funny how you never heard word from the Chief about it, sir." Duke says solemnly to Mr. French, who nods.

"Agreed, Duke. But if Falcon says he was in there just to be checked over, I suppose it wasn't of major consequences… still, I'd rather he had informed me… he'd have spared us the worry."

"I'd agree, sir," Adds Duke. "But young Falcon here is rather plucky and resilient. He may be a grumbler at times, but he hasn't given up, not even after suffering so many mishaps since he's arrived." He smiles at me. "That, sir, is the mark of A Really Useful Engine."

I beam broadly.


End file.
